Eternal Flame
by scgirl-317
Summary: A beheading in Cascade draws media attention, but the victim is not who everyone thinks he is. This leads to rekindled loves, startling revelations, a moral dilemma, complicated explanations, and a mortal bent on exposing Immortals to the world. Again.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Eternal Flame

Author: scgirl_317

Summary: A beheading in Cascade draws media attention, but the victim is not who everyone thinks he is. This leads to rekindled loves, startling revelations, a moral dilemma, complicated explanations, and a mortal bent on exposing Immortals to the world (again). Flashbacks are in italics.

Spoilers: Takes place after the end of both series, so pretty much anything is fair game. Plus, this is set somewhere around the year 2000, after _Highlander: Endgame_, though there are only vague references to it.

Author's Note: I could not reconcile with existing _Highlander_ cannon. 5.18, "The Modern Prometheus" places Methos in England in 1814, while 6.11, "Indiscretions" has him in New Orleans ten years prior. I could find no logical or feasible way for him to be in Georgia in 1820 and have both be true. So I decided to do what I normally do and pretend everything between 5.20, "Archangel" and 6.12/13, "To Be"/"Not to Be" never happened, thus negating any cannon established in said time frame.

* * *

><p>The clock ticked closer to 1:45, and she could tell her students were getting restless. It was a common fact known among the faculty that the closer it got to the end of class, the antsier students became. Add to that the fact that probably half hadn't had lunch, and that made for short attention spans. She was in a good mood, so she took pity on them and let them go early.<p>

Phoenix Red Hawk had been a professor of Native American history at Rainier University for about five years. When coming up with her current incarnation, she had decided she wanted to teach, passing on her vast knowledge gained from six hundred years of life among the Cherokee. It wasn't hard to fudge the credentials necessary to become a college professor, and computerized records made forging them even easier. The only catch was her eternally young appearance. No one thought she was old enough to be a college professor, but then, no one knew her real age.

_The sun was nearing the horizon when Little Bird—who, in over five hundred years, would be known as Phoenix Red Hawk—woke. Her husband would be joining the hunting party that day, so she made sure to be up when he was. It had been nearly twelve moons since she became the bride of the chief's son at nineteen years of age._

_Along with the other women in the village, she packed supplies for the men. They might not return until nightfall, so they would be in need of rations as well as water skins._

_The sun had not yet topped the trees when the men set off. Little Bird joined her sister by the stream to check the traps that had been set the evening before. She had refused to give up her duties when she became the chief's daughter, and he had let her. They had checked all but the last trap when a loud cry from the village drew their attention. Fearing some trouble, they rushed back._

_When they reached the village, the sight before them rooted them in their tracks._

_A band of renegade warriors was tearing through the huts. The bodies of men who remained behind were bloodied and strewn across the ground. The attackers were killing the animals and raping the women. Little Bird cried out when she saw the beaten and bloody body of her mother._

_Rage overcame her, but her small size worked against her, and she was easily overpowered. The renegade dragged her to the ground, and forced himself on her. She futilely fought against him, but his strength was too great._

_Once he was done with her, he tossed her inside a burning cabin, blocking the doorway. She tried to force the barricade, but she was too weak. Flames consumed the hut, eating away at her flesh in the process._

_Voices of mourning were the next thing Little Bird heard. Coughing to clear the smoke from her lungs, she sat up, finding the home she was in burned to the ground. Her clothes had been mostly burned away. However, her flesh remained as pure as the day before._

_Before she could make sense of what had happened, a pair of arms enveloped her. She took comfort in her husband, knowing only that for some reason, the spirits had spared her._

She returned to her office and began sorting out her papers for the next day when the tingling sensation she knew all too well settled in her head. It had been years since she had last felt the buzz of another Immortal, certainly not since she had been in Cascade. She had thought she was safe, but apparently her haven had been compromised.

Keeping her desk between her and the door, she pulled her jian from its scabbard. The folded steel blade felt heavy in her hands, but not unfamiliar. It was one of the things she regretted about her continued existence, that it depended upon the deaths of others. But there could be only one; it was the one rule they all lived by.

The door to Phoenix's office opened and the encroaching Immortal entered. His dark features and large size would have him pegged him for the villain in any spaghetti western. She didn't recognize him, and she remembered the faces of every Immortal she had ever met.

"Who are you?" she asked, not needing to know why he had come.

The Immortal chuckled. "Is that any way to talk to a guest?" he asked.

"You came to me," Phoenix reminded him. "Who. Are. You."

"All you need know is what I came to do," he stated, pulling a sword out from underneath his black duster.

"Forgetting something?" she chimed, raising her own sword just enough to make a point. She nodded towards her still open door. "Our games aren't for spectators."

Sure enough, the hallway beyond the door was filling with students and teachers now that most classes had let out. The Immortal gave her a patronizing sneer.

"No problem. Some other time."

He placed the sword back underneath his coat and left the office.

"Better not be in this lifetime," she muttered at his retreating back, re-sheathing her sword once she knew he was gone.

Phoenix managed to return to her previous task and put on some semblance of normalcy that masked her inner tension. For days, she had had a sense that something was about to upset her relatively quiet life. Now, she was pretty sure of what was about to happen.

An hour passed after the Immortal had left her office when a knock at her door drew her attention away from the papers she was grading. All of her fears faded away when she saw who was there.

"Dare I enter?" Blair Sandburg joked, crossing the threshold.

Phoenix smiled, standing and rounding her desk to greet her beau of four years with a kiss. Blair always managed to cheer her up.

"Always," she replied, wrapping her arms around is neck.

Blair pulled back and studied her for a second. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she lied all too easily.

"Come on, the lunch rush has cleared out from that café down the street that you like, so I'm taking you out for a treat."

"I guess I can leave for a little bit," Phoenix replied with false reluctance.

Blair smiled and waited while Phoenix locked up her office. The café was on a street that bordered Rainier, so they simply walked. They sat at a table outside and Blair ordered a chocolate gelato. Ordinarily, she would have savored the decadent desert, but instead she merely poked it with her spoon.

"Okay, Phoenix, what's up?" Blair asked.

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" Phoenix replied, filling with fear that she had been found out.

"You should be diving into this stuff," he pointed out. "Instead, you've hardly eaten three bites. Something's bothering you."

"I'm sorry, I guess my head's not all here," she shrugged. "Midterms are coming up. I'm behind on grading papers. I guess my head's back in the office." She looked up at him, hoping he bought her lie. "I'm sorry. Here I am drifting off. Banks gave you the detective's exam results today, right?"

Blair grinned, and that told her all she needed to know.

"Oh my gosh!" Phoenix jumped up and kissed him thoroughly. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered.

"Hey, the guys want to go out tonight to celebrate," Blair began.

She read his unspoken question. "Go. Have fun! You're a Cascade PD detective, now! If the guys want to take you out, let them. We can celebrate on our own later," she added seductively.

Blair nodded relieved as Phoenix returned to her seat and dug into the slightly melted treat. For now, she would forget about the other Immortal and enjoy the day.

* * *

><p>Phoenix had been going over papers when her stomach finally decided to make its demands known. A glance at the clock across from her couch told her it was almost nine o'clock and that she'd been at it for several hours straight. Not wanting to make anything herself, she grabbed a jacket and headed down to the hot dog stand a couple blocks over.<p>

She had gotten the food and was on her way back to her apartment when she felt the presence of another Immortal. She guessed it was the same Immortal that had come to her office that morning, but she hoped it was one on more friendly terms. Her cautious side winning out, she followed the buzz into a side alley and drew her sword.

The lone street lamp cast an eerie hue on the other Immortal, reflecting harshly off of his blade. The size of her opponent's falcion made her glad that her jian had been handcrafted of only the strongest steel.

The pair dispensed with formalities and immediately began circling each other. Phoenix was content to let him make the first move. She was at a size disadvantage, at five foot two versus his good six foot four, so she would have to outlast him.

The attacker swung, Phoenix barely dodging the blade as it passed precariously close to her neck. Using her smaller size as an asset, she easily ducked his advances, her strikes purely defensive as she waited for him to tire. She watched him, waiting for any opening or sign of faltering.

Eventually, it came. Her opponent over committed, his strike going wide, leaving his side fully exposed. She took advantage of his fatal mistake and struck, driving her blade deep into his side. He fell to his knees and she removed her blade and swung, liberating his head from the mammoth body.

She had a moment to catch her breath before the Quickening overtook her. The ferocity with which it enveloped her made it quite clear that this Immortal was a head hunter, and a good one.

Once the Quickening faded, she wasted no time leaving the body. Taking heads had been that hardest thing to learn when she learned what she was. She could easily count the number of heads she had taken in her six hundred years. She had no taste for killing.

She got back to her apartment and set the food on the counter. Having lost her appetite, she left it there and went back to her bathroom. She splashed some water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. Even though it was impossible, she thought she looked like she had aged by at least ten years. Her stomach churned as the other Immortal's power settled over her; head hunters had never set right with her.

She had no mind to return to her work tonight, so she curled up on her bed, hoping she would fall asleep swiftly and that her dreams would not be plagued by her victory.

The mattress shifting woke Phoenix just over an hour later. Even in her altered state of mind, she knew not to worry. She could not stop the smile that came when Blair wrapped his arms around from behind her. Unable to resist, she turned over in his arms so she could bury her face in his shirt, inhaling his scent.

"You okay?" Blair asked.

"I will be," she said, looking up to meet his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," she replied, placing a light kiss on his lips to end the line of questioning.

Blair nodded. He knew there was nothing more she would say on the matter, so he did not press further. So instead, he simply tightened his hold on her, hoping he could keep away whatever devil had spooked her.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm just saying, dusting off the furniture is likely to be the least of your worries. The place has been closed up for almost four years. There's no telling what kinds of spiders have taken up residence."

"You can't seriously be afraid of a few little insects?" Duncan MacLeod asked, raising the grating to allow them to pass from the freight elevator to the loft.

"Have you ever died from a spider bite?" Methos asked, hanging back. "It's not pleasant, believe me. Certainly not something I wish to revisit. I think I'll just let you flush them all out."

"Methos," Duncan sighed at the older Immortal's childishness.

"Fine," he huffed, picking up his duffle and entering the stuffy loft. "But if I get bit, I reserve the right to shoot you."

He walked over and stood next to his friend. All of the furniture had been covered with white sheets. Smaller items and kitchen utensils were stored in stacked boxes. The care Joe had taken in closing up the loft did not go unnoticed.

Duncan had not been back to the Seacouver loft since before Ritchie's death, three years ago. It had been easier to lose himself in Paris than it would have been in the States. It was easier to remember the good times there, and forget the bad ones. But after Connor's death and other recent events, he had decided it was time to go back.

His train of thought was interrupted by Methos' cell phone ringing. The other man checked the ID on the phone, indicating that it was Joe Dawson calling.

"Yeah, Joe, what's up?"

"Are you near a TV?" Duncan's watcher asked.

Methos looked over to the sheet-covered set; Duncan had yet to have the power turned back on in the loft.

"Ah, not at the moment. Why?"

"Well, get down to my place. There's something you need to see."

That was all the explanation Joe offered over the phone, and Methos was left looking confusedly at his cell, as if it could give him more information.

"What's wrong?" Duncan asked, setting his bag on the bed.

"I have no idea," Methos replied. "Joe just said there was something I needed to see. Sounded important."

"I'll give you a ride," the younger Immortal offered. Methos was about to object, but remembered that he had yet to get his car out of storage, so the two headed back out and down to the street to Duncan's car.

Joe's tavern was a short drive away, and it was spent in silence. When they got there, it was empty, as it usually was during the day in the middle of the week. Soft blues played over the sound system, offering white noise to fill in the background.

Dawson was behind the bar, as usual, and simply nodded to the TV screen behind the bar as a way of explanation. They watched as a "Breaking News" banner flashed across the screen. The story was that of a series of beheadings in Cascade, merely three hours away. The reporter said that there had been four such incidents in the past month, none of the victims seemed to be related, the police had yet to come up with a suspect, and that details would be relayed as the police released them.

When the story was over, Joe clicked off the set. The three stood in silence for a moment before Methos spoke up.

"Well, it wasn't me."

"I know," Joe replied. "The first three were the work of Lucius Crae, a head hunter."

"I knew I shoulda killed that bastard when I had the chance," Methos muttered.

"I take it you know him," Joe said.

"Met him not long after I came to America, about two hundred years ago," the Immortal replied. "I'm only sorry I didn't take his head then."

"You said the first three killings were Crae," Duncan pointed out. "What about the fourth?"

"The fourth _was_ Crae."

"Well, that's one less psychopath the world needs to worry about," Methos said. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that all four heads were taken before the Watchers could retrieve the bodies," Joe stated. "Who ever it was would wait a couple days and then drop them off in front of the police department. Crae's head was delivered an hour ago."

"Okay, that's a problem," Duncan agreed. "The cops have heads and no bodies. There's no way this is going to slip away."

"So why did you call me?" Methos asked. "Surely you don't expect me to go to Cascade PD and tell them that disembodied heads are nothing to worry about?"

"No," the Watcher agreed. "Crae's Watcher couldn't get close enough to actually witness the fight, but he managed to surveil the entrance to the alley where Crae lost and identify the winner."

Joe reached under the bar and pulled out a file photo and handed it to Methos. Joe and Duncan watched as a multitude of emotions played over the old Immortal's face. Duncan looked over Methos' shoulder and saw a young face—she couldn't have been more than twenty when she experienced her first death. Long, straight black hair was highlighted by streaks of red, and a seven-pointed star resting on olive branches was tattooed on her left shoulder.

"Who is she?" Duncan asked.

"Her current name is Phoenix Red Hawk, a professor of Native American studies at Ranier University," Joe answered, since Methos was still entranced by the photo, "though when we first started tracking her, almost two hundred years ago, she was called Fire Bird. Her Watcher was able to determine that her teacher was an Immortal doctor named Benjamin Adams, but he was never able to actually catch a glimpse of him."

Methos looked up and met Joe's pointed look.

"What? I told you I studied medicine."

"Yeah, Heidelberg, 1453," Joe shot back.

"Documents were a lot easier to forge in 1820," Methos shrugged. He could tell by the looks Joe and Duncan were giving him that they weren't going to let this drop, so sighing, he continued.

"After my escapades with Byron, I decided to return to America. Figured it was the best place for a clean start. I lived in Savannah, Georgia for about six months when a call went out for a doctor in a frontier settlement, what's now northern Atlanta. I decided, 'what the heck?' and answered."

_Three months after arriving in Atlanta, Methos—then known as Dr. Benjamin Adams—was making rounds through several of the farms and smaller plantations when a loud outcry gathered his attention. He knew there were still several Indian villages in the area, but he had never encountered any of the Natives. _

_As he neared, he felt the familiar buzz of a nearby Immortal. Unsure what he was riding into, but knowing a cry of pain when he heard one, he urged his horse on._

_Benjamin came out of the trees into a clearing and saw several drunken men trying to force themselves on two Indian women. He was unsure which one was the Immortal, but he was not about to stand by and watch those men assault the women. He jumped off his horse, pulling the men back and striking hard enough to leave the men unconscious for some time, but not permanently injured._

"_Are you alright?" he asked, pulling the women to their feet._

_One of the women turned and ran; apparently the local Natives had not gotten along very well with the Whites. The second, however, stayed. Suddenly, Benjamin knew that the buzz was coming from her. It was not very strong, so she was either very young, or she had taken few heads._

_She felt the buzz as well, and somehow knew it came from him. She placed one hand to her head and the other to his._

"_Yes, I'm like you," he said, before realizing that she probably did not understand his English; American settlers had only been in the area for a little over a year. He searched the limited vocabulary he had picked up in the Cherokee tongue for words that would serve his purpose._

"_How many winters?" he asked._

_She looked surprised that he spoke in her tongue, but she responded, "Three hundred and sixty-nine."_

"_Benjamin Adams," he said, pointing to himself._

_She seemed to understand, and replied in kind, "_A-tsi-la Tsi-s-qua_."_

"_Fire Bird," Benjamin translated, smiling softly._

_By her manner, he suspected that he was the first Immortal she had ever met, and he knew that there were others who take her head with little thought or consideration of the fact that she was unarmed. Something about this innocent girl drew out his usually dormant protective side, and he knew he had to watch over her. It had been centuries since he'd taken on a student, but he couldn't let this one pass by._

"Never figured you for the 'knight in shining armor' type," Duncan said wryly, once Methos had explained everything.

"I may have been born before the age of chivalry, but that doesn't mean I can't be a gentleman," Methos shot back. He shrugged, "Something about Fire Bird just grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let me go. We were together for eighteen years, until her village was rounded up with the rest of the Cherokee in the area and herded to the reservations in Oklahoma. I offered to let her stay with me, but she insisted on remaining with her people. I haven't seen her since."

Something in the Immortal's eyes made Joe pause.

"You loved her," was all he said.

Methos smiled sadly, "We were not quite lovers, but definitely more than friends. Actually, she was a lot like Alexa: curious, intelligent, full of life. She loved for me to make her laugh," he added with a chuckle.

Joe and Duncan traded a look; neither had ever seen the old Immortal like this. Joe paused before retreating back into his office, emerging moments later with a sheet of paper.

"You didn't get this from me," he said, sliding the paper across the counter to Methos.

Methos picked it up and unfolded it; it was blank except for an address in Cascade. He nodded thanks to Joe and turned to leave, telling Duncan he was going back to the loft.

"What do you think is going through his mind?" Duncan asked, leaning on the bar.

"With him, there's no telling."

* * *

><p>Phoenix tried to concentrate. It had been four days since her battle with the head hunter. The other Immortal's head had been dropped off in front of the police department that morning, bringing the current total to four disembodied heads. So far, the police still had no leads, but she was fairly certain the head hunter had been responsible for the first three.<p>

She managed to clear out the stack of papers that needed grading before there was a knock at her door. She maintained a straight face, but her stomach dropped to her shoes when she saw Blair and his partner, Jim Ellison, at her door.

"What's up, guys?" she asked, doing her best to not belie her nervousness.

"We've got some questions for you," Jim said.

She could tell by Jim's tone that they weren't questions about dinner. Schooling her features to reveal as little as possible, she motioned to the chairs opposite her desk.

"What can I help you with?"

"I'm sure you've heard that another head has been delivered to the station?" Blair said.

"I had heard something to that effect, yes," Phoenix said. "Any idea who it was?"

"ID came back one Lucius Crae," Jim answered. "If you ask me, it sounds more like the villain in a bad western. Anyway, he was seen on campus last Thursday afternoon." Jim pulled out a photo and handed it to her. "Did you see him?"

Phoenix took the photo and pretended to study it, trying to decide just how much of the truth she should tell.

"He came by my office, Thursday afternoon," she finally said. "He seemed to be looking for a fight, and I apparently seemed as good a target as anyone. I managed to quietly convince him that it was neither the time nor the place for a brawl, and he left."

"You'd never seen him before?" Blair asked.

"Never," she replied, shaking her head. "Sorry I can't be more help."

Jim nodded with a sigh. There was something Phoenix wasn't saying. It wasn't a flat-out lie, but she was definitely not telling the full story. He decided to do some more digging before saying anything to Blair about this. It might mean nothing, but it could mean everything, and he needed to be sure for his Guide's sake.

"Well, thanks anyway," he said, standing. "We need to get back to work. I'll see you later."

"Bye, fellas," she said as they walked out.

Once they were gone, she closed her office door, leaning her head back against the wooden surface sigh a sigh. That was far too close, and she had no idea if Jim bought her story. Sentinels were walking, talking lie detectors, and she doubted even she was good enough to fool him. She cursed herself for falling on love with a cop; she should have known that was a bad idea from the get-go.

With a growl of frustration, she moved away from the door. There was no way she was going to get any more work done, so she didn't even try. She packed up her things and left; thankfully, it was getting late in the afternoon, so leaving early wouldn't draw much attention.

She drove home, but instead of going up to her apartment, she went to the gym nearby that she frequented. She needed to work out the tension that had almost instantaneously built up in her muscles. Her usual sparring partner was not present, so she attacked the heavy bag instead. For twenty minutes solid, she threw punch after punch, until her knuckles started to bleed through the wrappings.

She went back to the locker room and sat on one of the benches, wincing as she carefully undid the wrappings. Now that she was somewhat still, she could feel her muscles protesting to the abuse, and she knew she would be sore in the morning. When she finally unwound the wrappings from her hands, she could see her knuckles were raw and severely bruised.

She grimaced and gathered her things, walking back to her apartment. She showered and bandaged her hands before moving to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It was only then that she noticed a note had been left pinned to her refrigerator with a magnet.

_If you need somewhere to go, Seacouver's not that far. 42-A Brickstone Ave. Be safe, Fire Bird. BA_

_BA_. There were few she knew with those initials, but only one who knew her true name.

"Benjamin," she breathed, memories of a lifetime long ago coming back to the forefront.

Suddenly, she knew what she would do. She made the necessary arrangements and gathered what things she would need before turning in. It was still early in the evening, but the weight of recent events had exhausted her, and she fell asleep swiftly.

The next morning, she rose before the sun. She dressed and fixed a cup of coffee, taking her time before setting out. The sun was just peeking over the mountains when she started her car.


	3. Chapter 3

_So sorry this has taken me so long to update! My birthday was last week, and that chaos was compounded with an acute stomach virus that knocked my entire family on our backs for two days. We're all better now, but I didn't even feel like writing in the stories I haven't posted, much less update this one. So as pennance, you'll get a double update. Things are about to get interesting. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>Methos rolled over in bed, trying to drown out the knocking sound he heard. It took him several minutes to figure out the knocking was coming from his front door. As he became more alert, he felt the buzz of a nearby Immortal.<p>

Now fully awake, he reached for his Ivanhoe, and carefully approached the door. Prepared to swing if necessary, he held his blade up with one hand while he reached for the knob with the other. He opened the door, and froze when he saw his visitor.

"Fire Bird?" he asked, trying to convince himself that he wasn't hallucinating.

"It's been a long time since someone's called me that," she said with a small smile. "Hello, Benjamin."

"It's been a long time since someone's called me that," he parroted, a smile spreading across his face. He lowered his blade and stepped back, allowing her entrance into his apartment. "I'm sorry, you just caught me before I was fully awake."

"You never were a morning person," she said with a grin as she walked past. She took in the stark room and raised an eyebrow at him. "Though I never took you for a neat freak."

"I've been in Europe for the past few years," he said by way of explanation. "Just returned yesterday in time to see your brilliant handiwork on the news. Congratulations on killing that bastard. Coffee?"

Phoenix laughed at the progression of Methos' words: Europe to Crae to coffee in less than thirty seconds.

"Sure, coffee sounds good after that drive."

Methos went about preparing two cups as the coffee brewed. He found it oddly surreal to be doing something so normal. He hadn't seen the woman in over a hundred and fifty years, and here he was making them coffee as if no time at all had passed. Granted, a century and a half was a long weekend compared to his over five millennia, but still.

"I may have to leave Cascade, soon," Phoenix finally said, taking a sip of her coffee, acting as if she had said no more than she was out of milk.

"I take it the police have you in their sights?" Methos guessed, as they went to sit on the couch.

"One does, I think," she replied. "Jim Ellison. He's Cascade PD's lead detective. He's also a Sentinel."

Phoenix paused as this latest piece of information sunk in. Once it registered, Methos hung his head.

"Crap," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I've had my fair share of run-ins with Sentinels over the centuries. He's not gonna let this drop, is he?"

"Nope. He and Blair were asking me about Crae while you were breaking and entering."

"This Blair his partner?"

"Partner, Guide… and my boyfriend," she added after a pause. "Blair Sandburg is one of the best men I've ever met. He's kind, intelligent…"

"You love him," Methos finished.

Phoenix nodded, a soft smile gracing her features, "As much as I've ever loved you."

Methos ducked his head to hide the shy smile that spread. He reached a hand up to gently stroke her cheek, memories of their time together flooding back.

"I missed you," he said simply.

"I missed you, too," she replied, leaning forward to place a light kiss on his lips.

"Mmm, I missed that, too," Methos added with a cheeky grin, once she pulled back.

Phoenix laughed, lightly smacking his arm. The comfortable banter that had accompanied them for eighteen years easily fell back into place.

"So what have you been up to for the last hundred and sixty-two years?" she asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Thus passed the morning, the two catching up on the last century and a half. Phoenix sat on the couch, curled under Methos' arm, as she told him how she migrated from Oklahoma to Washington: the death that had finally forced her to leave her people, her travels among the tribes, and finally her life in Cascade at the university and with Blair. He told her of his travels through Europe, his recent adventures with MacLeod and Dawson, and even about his brief time with Alexa.

It was mid afternoon when the two finally emerged from the apartment, Methos having not had a chance to restock his kitchen. The two got in his car and headed out, unaware that they were being watched.

Jim sighed as he watched his guide's girlfriend come out of the building with another man. From the way he held her, Jim was pretty sure they were more than friends. Something still didn't sit right with him—mainly, that the conversation he had overheard had made little sense because there was no way that what they had been saying could be true—so he decided to follow them.

He followed them to a small diner. They stayed there for about an hour; the conversation as they ate had been far more normal. From there, they went to a bar, not too far from the apartment building. He remained in his car and listened as they went inside.

Methos enjoyed going to Joe's during the day, mostly because no one else was hardly ever there. At the most, it would be himself, Joe, and Duncan. Maybe Amanda, if she was in town. It was a place where he could be Methos, not Adam Pierson, and those places were few and far between.

As he and Phoenix neared the building, they both felt the buzz of another Immortal. He saw Duncan's T-bird parked there, and relaxed, though he still made sure that his sword was tucked inside his coat.

"It's just me," he called out, as he and Phoenix entered.

As he had predicted, it was just Duncan and Joe by the bar. Duncan had gone on alert when he had felt another Immortal approaching, and he relaxed a bit when he saw it was Methos. Joe's eyebrows shot up when he saw Phoenix, recognizing her from her file. Actually, in his mind, the photo didn't do her justice; she was far more attractive in person.

"This is Joe Dawson, he owns the place," Methos introduced.

"Any friend of Adam's," Joe greeted cordially, holding out his hand to her.

"Fire- Phoenix," she corrected herself. "Phoenix Red Hawk. You know, after over a hundred years, you'd think I'd be used to the name change, but I'm not. As it is, I'm doing good just to keep track of what identity I'm using currently, forget past aliases."

Duncan chuckled, "That can happen sometimes. Duncan MacLeod."

"I've heard a lot about you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," she said with a grin.

"All lies, I'm pretty sure," he told her, and she laughed. She was pretty sure neither would admit it, but she could tell that they held each other in high regard. She knew that Methos considered Duncan his closest friend, but would adamantly deny any such suggestion.

"What can I get you?" Joe asked.

"Guinness, thanks," she replied.

Joe handed her the beer, and she moved over to the table where Methos sat, and he pulled her to sit in his lap instead of another chair. Duncan and Joe traded a look at this; they would have never supposed Methos to be so tactile, but then Joe recalled seeing the old Immortal with Alexa. He had always had her hand, or had his arm wrapped around her shoulder or waist. It occurred to Joe that this was the Methos they had never had a chance to see, this was Methos in love. Joe smiled; if anyone deserved happiness in life it was Methos, and Joe was glad for any chance he had to snatch it.

"So what brings you to Seacouver?" Duncan asked as someone entered the bar.

Phoenix didn't get a chance to answer, as the newcomer made his presence known right then.

"Yeah, Phoenix, I'd like to hear that answer, too," Jim said, his steely glare making her stomach drop past the floor. "Boy, did you have us fooled. I didn't think you were the type to kill someone in cold blood, but I also didn't finger you for the type to keep a guy in the next town. Guess I was wrong on both counts."

"Jim, please," Phoenix started, her voice cracking, "it's not what you think."

"Really? Looks pretty clear to me. We question you about Lucious Crae's murder, you skip out first thing the next morning, and I find you getting cozy with a guy who's not Blair. Did I leave out anything?"

"Detective Ellison, is this really necessary?" Methos asked, accurately guessing that this was Jim Ellison, based on Phoenix's description. His hackles went up at the other man's attitude; he didn't care who or what Ellison was, he had no right to accost Phoenix like this.

"Jim, I had to kill him," Phoenix said quietly, seeing no other option. "If I hadn't, you would have gotten my head yesterday, not Crae's."

"Oh really?" Jim asked, skeptically. "And you know this how?"

"Because Crae was the one taking the heads."

Phoenix stood and walked over to Joe, who was still behind the bar.

"Got a knife back there?" she asked him.

"Yeah, why?" he asked. The look she gave him explained her intent, and he swiftly backpedaled, "Oh no, no, no, no, no! Not in my place, you're not!"

Duncan couldn't help the laugh that came out. He knew what she was asking. He had had Tessa shoot him when he told her about his Immortality, and he had heard that Methos had sliced his hand open in front of one of the Watchers' wives. He knew Joe wouldn't give in, so Duncan turned to Jim. Seeing the gun the detective wore in his hip, he made a snap decision.

Moving swiftly, Duncan grabbed the gun and fired, hitting Phoenix squarely between the shoulders. Methos and Joe both started at the loud shot, and Methos quickly moved to catch her before she fell, making sure she didn't hit her head against anything. Joe simply glared at Duncan.

Jim had gone into action as soon as Duncan had grabbed his gun. He reached to take the weapon back, but Duncan managed to fire before Jim regained control of the gun and pinned Duncan against the table, the latter deciding that it would be better not to struggle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jim snarled, pressing Duncan down into the table.

"Calm down, Ellison," Joe said.

"He just shot her!" Jim exclaimed, unable to understand how Dawson was so calm; a woman had just been shot right in front of him, for heaven's sake!

A gasp drew Jim attention down to where Methos sat on the floor. Phoenix coughed, refilling her lungs as her Quickening repaired the damage.

"You okay?" Methos asked.

"I always forget how much that hurts," she muttered, allowing Methos to pull her up from the floor. She pulled her jacket off and groaned when she saw the hole in the back, "Man, I liked this jacket."

"Sorry, I'll buy you a new one," Duncan said from where Jim still held him.

"Oh, you bet you will," Phoenix told him. "And I can have expensive taste."

"I'll make it Italian."

"You do know the way to a girl's heart," she grinned.

"Wait, what just happened?" Jim demanded.

"I just died," Phoenix answered, knowing it wasn't the answer he wanted.

"I got that. What I don't get is why you're not still dead."

"I'm not dead because I can't die," she said, revealing her secret at last. "I'm Immortal."

Jim stared at her, blinking, unsure if he had heard her right.

"Come again?"

"The only way to kill me is to cut off my head," she continued. "Anything else will heal, and that includes aging. In a hundred years, I'll look just like I do now."

Phoenix tried not to fidget, and Methos' hand on her back acted as an anchor for her. Joe watched her, knowing just how big it was for Immortals to reveal themselves. Duncan and Methos watched Jim for his reaction.

Ellison's rational mind could not make sense of what he'd just been told. There was no way it was possible. It was something out of science fiction, not reality. Of course, if someone had asked him ten years ago if Sentinels were real, he would have laughed in their faces.

Something in the other three's faces told him she was dead serious, if you would pardon the bad pun, and the only thing he could think to ask was, "How old are you?"

Phoenix let out a sigh of relief, "Five hundred thirty-one. I was born to a Cherokee tribe in northern Georgia in 1469. I was twenty when a band of renegades ransacked my village. I was locked in one of the cabins that had been set aflame. That was the first time I died."

"Crae was after your head, so you took his?" he clarified, and she nodded. "Why?"

"You want the long answer or the short one?" Duncan asked, still pinned to the table.

"Short."

"Kill or be killed," Methos said. "When one Immortal takes the head of another, they receive all their knowledge and power. The more heads you take, the more powerful you become. For some, that power is a narcotic, and they become head hunters."

"You mind letting me go?" Duncan asked.

Jim stepped back, releasing Duncan from the table. Phoenix recognized the look on Ellison's face; it was one that Blair often had when he was sifting through facts, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"So what about you three?" he asked the others.

"Oh no, I'm mortal," Joe quickly assured him.

Jim looked at Duncan and Methos, who traded a look. Methos shrugged, knowing that if the Sentinel could keep that a secret, he would know to keep theirs.

"Five thousand years, give or take," said the ancient Immortal. "Mostly give."

"Four hundred and eight," added Duncan; if Methos could tell Jim, so could he.

Jim's head swam at those numbers. People with heightened senses were one thing. People whose lives were better measured in centuries were something else entirely.

"I have no idea why I'm believing this. By all rights, I shouldn't believe this."

"But you do," finished Phoenix. "And you know you can't arrest me." Jim looked sharply at her, and she continued, "If you arrest me for killing Crae, eventually you'll have to reveal why I killed him. Look me in the eye and tell me you can, in good conscience, reveal what I am."

Jim sighed. When Blair's mother had leaked his thesis, Jim's secret had been laid bare for all to see. He wouldn't wish that kind of violation on anyone.

"I don't see how I could arrest you," Jim said. "There's nothing to suggest you did it, nothing solid. Everything's circumstantial."

Phoenix sighed, smiling with relief, "Thank you."

"I'm glad it's a three hour drive back to Cascade, because I have no idea what I'm going to tell Simon."

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

Jim nodded and left just as suddenly as he arrived, and it was once again just the three Immortals and Joe. The entire incident had taken less than ten minutes.

"That was different," Joe said, after a moment of silence.

"That's Jim Ellison for you," Phoenix said simply, "skeptic, over-protective, extremely loyal. Finding me on another man's lap when I'm dating his partner and best friend didn't help matters any."

"Yeah, I can see that," Duncan noted. "Speaking of which, what is up with the two of you," he added, motioning between Methos and Phoenix, who had returned to the table.

"Ah, we haven't exactly figured that out, yet," Methos said.

"Whatever we are, I wanna enjoy the time I have with Blair, however short that might be, now," Phoenix shrugged. "Adam and I have plenty of time."


	4. Chapter 4

It was almost nine o'clock that night when Jim returned to the loft. He could hear Blair inside, undoubtedly preparing something green and leafy to eat. Jim still hadn't figured his Guide's obsession with rabbit food.

"I'm back," he called out when he entered the loft.

"Hey, find anything in Seacouver?" Blair called out from the kitchen.

_Yeah, found out your girlfriend already has a boyfriend and can live forever._

"Dead end. Anything here?"

"_Nada_," Blair replied, coming out of the kitchen with a salad in hand that made Jim grimace. "I'm beginning to thing whoever this guy is, he's a ghost."

"Maybe," Jim muttered.

There was still something he was missing. Crae had cut of the first three heads, Phoenix had taken Crae's head, but there was no reason why she would deliver the head to the cops. So there had to be a third party in the mix.

"What if we're looking at this all wrong?" he wondered, picking at the greens.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked.

"We've been looking at the victims. What if we look at the delivery? Four heads delivered to Cascade PD, there has to be some trace. I'll put my stuff up and head to the office."

"Ah, no you don't," Blair protested. "It'll be there in the morning. Even the Lone Ranger needed sleep."

Jim groaned, knowing that tone of voice. Blair wouldn't let up, so the best thing to do would be to give in. Be less of a hassle, anyway.

"Talk to Phoenix, today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, she said she wasn't feeling too well. Handed her classes over to one of her grad students and went to stay with a friend for a few days. Said she'd call me when she got back."

"She say where she went?" Jim asked as casually as he could.

"No, but she's got her cell if I need to get in touch with her."

Jim said no more. He and Phoenix were going to have a talk when she got back and this was all over. She needed to tell Blair about her Immortality, or she would end up breaking his heart, and Jim was not going to allow that. But first, he had to somehow convince Simon that the case was going nowhere, and he knew that that was the more daunting task.

* * *

><p>It was five days later when Phoenix put her bag back in her car. She slid her sword down next to the driver's seat and turned back to Methos.<p>

"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Wish I could, but I told my TAs I'd be back on Monday, and I need to get my lectures ready," she replied. "Besides, I currently have a boyfriend."

"Yes, lucky bastard," Methos growled playfully, leaning down to kiss her.

Phoenix laughed. Over the past few days, she had noticed that he had become far more possessive than he had been in 1820, not wanting to be apart from her for more than a few minutes. But she gave as good as she got, and she maintained physical contact as much as was possible.

She pulled back with a sigh, "I better go. I wanna get out of town before I have to deal with rush hour traffic."

"All right, well, be careful in the mountains," he directed, reluctantly pulling away.

Phoenix got behind the wheel and closed the door. Methos pressed a hand to the window briefly as she started the car. He stood on the street watching as she drove off, and even after she had turned onto another street.

Methos returned to his apartment. It was still in a state of mild disarray from his return, and cleaning had been the last thing on his mind while Phoenix had been there. In all honesty, he still didn't feel like it, but it needed to be done. The only part of the apartment that was in some state of order was the kitchen, and that was because Phoenix had insisted on at least that much so they didn't have to eat out every meal.

Moving around as he unpacked boxes, his mind traveled back in time to the 1820s. Even as he had taught her how to live as an Immortal, she had taught him how to _live_. She had a fire that was contagious, but she could be oddly tranquil. Her domestic side was what shocked him the most. She chided him if he failed to keep his house up, and was constantly bringing him native foods, ranging from roots and berries to fresh game. If anything, she over-fed him. She also taught him of Cherokee remedies and medicinal herbs that were found in the forest.

Methos looked back on his time with Phoenix as one of the happiest times in his life. She was one of those one-in-every-ten-lifetimes girls that he had told Joe about after he met Alexa. At least he knew that, this time, he would be able to spend a lifetime with her.

* * *

><p>Phoenix pulled up in front of Blair and Jim's loft. She had dropped her things off at home and headed back out. She knew that Jim would want to talk to her, as well as make her tell Blair. It was something that she had expected, and she at least wanted it to be on her own terms.<p>

Jim opened the door before she could knock. The look on his face said that it was going to be a long night. He then nodded towards the alcove Blair used as a study.

"I'm gonna need a stiff drink before tonight's over," she said, stepping past him into the loft.

"You get Blair, I'll get the whiskey," Jim said.

Phoenix nodded, and headed back to the alcove. She leaned on the wall, watching him before he noticed her. Whatever Blair was reading had thoroughly engrossed him.

"Hey," she said softly, announcing her presence.

"Hey," he eagerly replied, walking over to her. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," she answered. "You mind coming out? I need to talk to you and Jim."

"Okay, everything okay?" Blair asked.

"More or less," she shrugged before turning back to the main room.

Jim was already there with a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. Blair furrowed his brow when he saw Phoenix go ahead and pour herself a drink.

"Guys, what's going on?" Blair asked.

"You might want to sit down for this," she said.

"Okay, now I'm getting worried," he protested. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

Phoenix took a deep breath and turned to Jim, "Hand me your knife."

Jim complied, and watched as she gritted her teeth, dragging the knife across her palm. Blood pooled in the crease of her hand, but Blair watched in amazement as the flesh knitted itself back together. Phoenix wiped the blood away, and indeed, the cut was no longer there. Blair simply gaped at her.

"I'm Immortal," she told him. "I can not age, and I am over five hundred years old. Any injury, minor or fatal, will heal."

Blair continued staring at her, "Seriously?"

"Yep."

Blair began blinking again as the implications of what she was saying set in. "How?"

"I was twenty when the village I'd grown up in was attacked and I was killed. When I woke up, I was Immortal, and I haven't aged since."

"I knew you were a brilliant teacher," Blair grinned. "History's not just random facts and dates, for you. You _lived_ it! You make it seem real, that's why your students love you!"

Much to Phoenix's surprise, Blair thought her Immortality was amazing. The next hour was spent as he questioned her about various details of her life. He found their code of conduct and interaction fascinating. She did all she could to avoid the subject of beheadings, but Jim needed answers.

"Who's taking the heads?" he asked bluntly.

"Heads?" Blair asked in confusion.

Phoenix closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn't wanted Blair to find out about this aspect of her life.

"Remember how I said that I would heal from any injury?" she asked reluctantly.

"Yeah."

"That's not exactly true. There is one thing I can't come back from. That's if my head is removed. It's the only surefire way to kill an Immortal."

"Why would anyone do that?" Blair asked, alarmed.

"There is one fact that we all recognize: in the end, there can be only one. There are those that believe that the last Immortal standing will receive unlimited power, enough to lord over all of humanity. When one Immortal kills another, he receives all of his opponent's knowledge and power. Some are determined to win the prize, and become head hunters. Others, like me, just want to live in peace. I don't care about the prize; I won't go looking for a fight, but I won't run from one, either."

"You did kill Crae," Blair said, realization sinking in.

"He thought I was an easy target. He was cocky, and it cost him his head," she shrugged. "I may be a small woman with a small sword, but I was trained by one of the oldest. I know how to keep my head."

"Back to my question," Jim redirected the conversation, sensing that things could get ugly between the other two. "It's not like you keep them as trophies. Who's been delivering the heads to Cascade PD?"

"I don't know," Phoenix replied. "Most likely someone who wants to out Immortals. It wouldn't be the first time a mortal had a beef with us, and I doubt it'll be the last. But whoever he is, this guy needs to be caught."


	5. Chapter 5

Methos nodded to Joe as he walked in, leaning past the Watcher to grab a beer. Popping the lid off, he listened in on Joe's end of a phone conversation. Whatever was going on, Joe was not happy about it. He ended the call and tossed the phone on to the counter.

"Trouble?" the Immortal asked innocently.

"Trying to track down a rogue Watcher," Joe replied. "The guy's gone off the grid, but we have eyes out for him."

"'Rogue?'"

"Martin Keppler, he was a good man, was good at what he did, but he snapped. He blames Immortals for his life spinning out of control, but in reality, he was obsessed and let his personal life fall apart. He started by killing the Immortal he was assigned to, and we know of at least three others."

"Where is the last place you had him located?" Methos asked.

"About a hundred and fifty miles northeast of Cascade…" Joe trailed off, realization kicking in.

"I need to call Phoenix," Methos said, grabbing the phone from the counter and hurriedly dialing.

"_Hi, you've reached Phoenix Red Hawk. I'm either away from my phone or on another call, but if you'll leave your name and number, I'll get back with you when I can._"

"Phoenix, it's me. Listen, tell Ellison he's looking for Martin Keppler. He's killed at least four Immortals, and was most likely the one to deliver the heads to Cascade PD. He's dangerous and extremely unstable, so be careful. Call me when you get this."

"Maybe she's in class," Joe suggested, noting the concerned look on the old Immortal's face.

"Maybe," Methos replied, unconvinced. "Something doesn't feel right, I'm going to Cascade."

"It's a three hour drive to Cascade!" Joe exclaimed. "And what are you going to do when you get there? Go up to Ellison and say, 'Hey, the man who's been delivering the heads isn't the killer, but he's been killing other Immortals. Why not arrest him for the murders?' That'll go over well."

"I need to make sure this psycho doesn't get to Phoenix," Methos told him. "I'm not going to stand by and watch her lose her head. I've gotta do something, Joe."

"Just keep your head down, okay?" the Watcher directed, grousing good naturedly. "I hate to think of how much paperwork will come with your death."

"Don't worry, I haven't lived this long by being reckless," Methos assured him before leaving.

Somehow, Joe wasn't convinced.

* * *

><p>It had been a week since Phoenix had returned to Cascade and told Blair about her Immortality. Jim had done his best to bury the case, but Simon wasn't budging as easily as he had hoped. Even so, he had stayed true to his word and hadn't mentioned Phoenix once. That should have helped to put her mind at ease, but she was even more restless than before.<p>

She had managed to keep her focus enough to get through her classes and go over assignments with her grad students, but that was about it. The feeling of foreboding that she had felt before encountering Crae had not gone away. In fact, if anything, it had increased. There was something yet to come, and whatever it was, it was big.

As she walked across to her car, she could feel a set of eyes following her. The weight of her jian was a small comfort. She pulled her cell out, hoping to call campus security in case her follower got too close, but was dismayed to find that the battery was dead. Thankfully, she had reached the parking lot, so she quickened her pace.

Once she reached her car, she got in, locked the doors, and pulled out her charger. With her phone once again powered, she saw that she had several missed calls and had one new voicemail. Accessing the message, Methos's smooth voice drifted through the phone. She heard him say that the man who had delivered the heads to the police had killed other Immortals.

However, that was as far as she got. The window shattered as a small-caliber bullet pierced the glass and entered her head. She was dead before her cell phone hit the seat.

* * *

><p>Methos growled in frustration as his call went straight to voicemail for the twelfth time. He had made record time from Seacouver to Cascade, and his first stop was the police department. He threw the car in park and ran into the building, skidding to a halt when he reached the front desk.<p>

"I need to talk to Detective Ellison now!" he barked.

The nervous receptionist called up to Homicide, and Jim told her to direct the Immortal through. With barely a nod of thanks, Methos followed the young girl's directions and spotted Ellison immediately.

"Ellison!"

Jim looked up when he heard his name being yelled out across the bullpen. He had been expecting Methos, but he hadn't quite expected the aggression behind the voice. The look in his eyes sent a chill down Jim's spine.

"Pierson, what is it?"

"When was the last time you or Blair talked to Phoenix?" Methos asked.

"I talked to her yesterday. Hey, Chief, when was the last time you talked to Phoenix?" Jim turned to Blair.

"I called her around lunchtime, why?" Blair asked, joining them.

"He has her. That bastard has her, and he's gonna kill her," Methos said, failing to keep the panic from his eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," Jim said softly. "Who has her?"

"Martin Keppler. He's a Hunter. What's worse, he's a Hunter with a grudge, and that makes it all the more likely that he's gonna kill her."

"How do you know this Keppler has Phoenix?" Blair asked, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable about Methos.

Methos narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice, "I've been trying to reach her for several hours, but she's not picking up her phone. And because he's already killed four of us, and was more than likely the one to deliver the heads to you."

Jim's eyes widened. "He killed four? As in…?" he clarified, motioning to his neck. Methos nodded grimly in response.

Blair's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked back and forth between the Sentinel and the Immortal. It was apparent that they had met before, but any questions he had would have to wait until they found Phoenix.

"Alright, you know about this Keppler. Any idea where to start looking for him?" Jim asked, instantly getting into detective mode.

"About a hundred and fifty miles northeast of here," Methos replied. "There's a state park campground that he's been holed up in. That's most likely where he took Phoenix."

"Then let's move," Jim said. "We're wasting time standing around talking."

Jim and Blair grabbed their jackets and followed Methos out of the building. As soon as they had climbed into Jim's truck, Methos had a map pulled out and was locating the best route to the park. No matter which way they went, it would take well over an hour to get there.

He only prayed I wouldn't be too late.

* * *

><p>As the numb fog rolled away, the first feeling Phoenix was aware of was a stabbing pain in her temple. She tried to raise her hand to massage her forehead, but she found her wrists were tied behind her. When awareness had returned more, she realized that she was bound to a folding aluminum chair, sitting in the middle of a room that was illuminated by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. There was one door to her left, and a table across from her where her jian lay.<p>

"Welcome back to the land of the living, for however long that lasts," said a cold voice from behind her.

Phoenix was unable to suppress the shudder as the source stepped around and entered her field of vision. The man was shockingly normal-looking. The only thing to hint that he was an insane Hunter was the mad gleam in his eyes. She had seen that look before, and it was never a good thing.

"Who are you?" she asked, hoping that if she could get him talking, she would find an opening to get away.

"The last thing you'll ever see," he said, picking up her sword.

It turned Phoenix's stomach to see someone else handling her sword. It was the ultimate violation for an Immortal; their sword was the one thing they always had to count on. For someone else to touch an Immortal's sword without express permission was sacrilege.

"Be careful, wouldn't want you to lose a finger," she snarked, unwilling to show just how unnerved she was.

"Oh, I am very adept at using one of these, Fire Bird."

Phoenix was unable to hide her surprise at his knowing her real name. The man smiled at the reaction, knowing he had hit his mark.

"Yes, I know a lot about you, Fire Bird. I know you were almost four hundred before you met your teacher, who you proceeded to have an affair with. I know you have been posing as a teacher for the past four years. I know you made a trip to Seacouver last week, where you spent the entire week in bed with Adam Pierson. Shall I go on?"

"No, I get the picture. So you know about us, you know about me. Congratulations, you're part of the club. Sorry, I'm fresh out of tee shirts."

"I'm afraid I'm looking for a different kind of souvenir," he replied, raising the sword level with her neck.

She swallowed compulsively, trying to force her heart back down into her chest from where it had jumped into her throat. Panic was beginning to set in when she felt the buzz of another Immortal approaching. She prayed that meant help was coming.


	6. Chapter 6

_Here is the final chapter! Thanks for the reviews/alerts/favorites, I really appreciate hearing that __you like what I write! I had too much fun playing with Methos and Phoenix, so I have a couple more plot bunnies that may or may not get published. I'm hoping for the "may" option. So without further ado, here you go!_

* * *

><p>Once Methos had directed them as best he could, Jim took over tracking Keppler. The Hunter had not blazed a clear path, but he had left enough of a trail for the Sentinel to follow. They followed the trail for several miles off the road before they reached a secluded hunting cabin. As they neared, Methos could feel the buzz of another Immortal.<p>

"Phoenix is still alive," he said quietly, heaving a sigh of relief.

"How do you know?" Blair asked, still unsure of Methos' connection to Phoenix.

"There's one of us in there. Unless this guy works with Immortals on a regular basis, it's her."

Jim and Blair pulled out their side arms while Methos unsheathed his sword from inside his greatcoat, Blair's eyes widening at the sight of the Ivanhoe. Silently, they approached the solitary building, weapons ready.

When they reached the door, they could hear the voices inside. Keppler's mention of a souvenir made Methos' eyes widen, suppressing a gasp. He traded a look with Jim and Blair; the former nodded, understanding the unspoken statement. A well-placed kick was enough to knock the door off of its weak hinges. Keppler backed away from Phoenix, in surprise. A feral grin spread across his face when he recognized Methos.

"Drop it, Keppler!" Jim barked as Methos moved to cut Phoenix free.

Instead, Keppler let out a growl and lunged for the two Immortals, bringing the jian up for a strike. His blow never landed, though, Jim and Blair both firing off several rounds before he could reach them.

Methos and Phoenix stood there in shock as blood pooled around Keppler's body. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, none of them able to speak. Finally, it was Jim who broke the spell.

"Well, that's a new one."

Phoenix released a cross between a laugh and a sigh before turning and burying her face in Blair's chest.

"My hero," she said quietly.

Methos smiled awkwardly, not entirely comfortable with her show of affection to the other man. He knew it was petty and selfish, but he didn't like the idea of someone else getting to enjoy what he thought of as rightfully his. In an effort to distract himself, he stepped over to Keppler and lifted Phoenix's sword from his hand. Upon inspection he noticed a dent on the blade where a bullet had hit it.

"A thousand years," he muttered. "This sword has survived a thousand years of duels without injury, and you idiots have to go and shoot it."

"I'll pay to have I fixed," Jim huffed, good-naturedly.

"You bet you will," Methos replied, pointing the blade at the Sentinel. "I'll not have her going around with a damaged blade."

"_She_ can speak for herself, thank you very much," Phoenix said, extracting herself from Blair's embrace and walking over to Methos. "You've always taken care of me," she smiled softly, placing a hand on his cheek.

This time, it was Blair's turn to feel uncomfortable. Jim sensed this, and raised an eyebrow at Methos. The old Immortal understood completely and gently pulled Phoenix's hand away, placing it instead on her sword.

"I'll get you the name of a good swordsmith," he said, changing the subject. "I know a couple who specialize in pieces this old."

"You know a few who _are_ this old," Phoenix teased lightly.

"Okay, I'm gonna call simon, have him send up another team to deal with the cleanup, here," Jim said. "I'm ready to be out of here."

Methos nodded and gently directed Phoenix back to Blair. He didn't miss the slight shaking in her shoulders. He realized that as much as she was putting on a brave front, she was working desperately to keep it together. What they saw now was only a front, and she had been scared out of her mind before they had come crashing in. Methos wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and shut away the world, but that was no longer his responsibility. That now fell to Blair, and Methos felt another pang of jealousy. But Blair was steady, faithful, constant, something Phoenix needed right now, and Methos was not going to deny her just to fulfill his own selfish desires.

The ride back to Cascade was quiet, save for Jim's conversation with Simon, once they were back in a place with cell reception. Phoenix was curled up next to Blair in the backseat of the cab while Methos rode shotgun. He noticed that Jim kept glancing in his direction, and he knew why, but that was not a conversation for close quarters.

Once they returned to the police department, Jim directed Blair to take Phoenix home and stay with her for the rest of the night, just to be sure she was indeed alright. Methos watched as she didn't offer any resistance as he led her to his car. He offered her a smile of comfort as she glanced back at him one last time. As they were pulling out, Jim turned to Methos.

"I don't know what your deal is, Pierson, but you keep away from Phoenix and Blair, or I will shoot you myself. Understood?" he asked, threat falling somewhat short since they both knew Methos wouldn't stay dead.

"Relax, Ellison, I have no intention of interfering," Methos replied. "I respect Phoenix's decision, and right now, she wants Blair for as long as she can have him. Patience may not have always been one of my stronger suits, but I know to behave when I've been side-lined."

Jim started to protest at the notion that Blair was jus some temporary fling, but Methos cut him off.

"Think about it, Ellison. One day, Blair will die and Phoenix won't. She'll have to live on long after he's dead. Do you think Blair would want her to sit around pining for him, or would he want her to get on with her life? That's the way it is for us. Our loved one whither and die, and we live on. We have to move on. Because if we don't, it could cost us our heads."

With that, Methos turned back for his car. He unlocked the door and turned back one last time before getting inside.

"Be sure you tell Blair that he'd better take good care of her, or he'll have me to answer to. And tell Phoenix I'll see her later."

Jim shook his head as Methos drove away. The past few weeks had been weird. Even for him.

* * *

><p><em>Seven years later<em>

Phoenix frowned as she looked up at the sky. It didn't seem right that it was a clear, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. It felt wrong, as if it went against nature to have a funeral on a sunny day. Though, she supposed, Blair would have wanted it that way.

Jim stood stoically beside her, grinding his teeth to reign in his emotions. He had been beating himself up with guilt over Blair's death, but she knew there was nothing he could have done. It had been a freak accident, nothing more. Blair had been driving to meet up with him at a crime scene after having dinner with her, and some drunken idiot ran a red light and plowed into Blair's car. It had been his night off, but Jim had still called him in to work the case. Hence, the guilt.

Phoenix bore him no ill will, though. She knew there was no way he could have foreseen what was going to happen. She knew she would have to say goodbye to Blair eventually, and the chances of it being sooner rather than later were rather high considering his profession. It was a fact she was resigned to. Didn't make it hurt any less, though.

The casket was lowered into the concrete vault, and the minister dismissed the mourners. Jim hung around the grave, as if he could will Blair back to life. Phoenix placed a hand on his cheek , forcing him to turn to face her. For the first time, he noticed that her eyes were just a bloodshot from tears as his were.

"Find another Guide," she ordered softly. "Blair wouldn't want you to fall apart because of him. He took so much pride in helping you hone your senses; he wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

"A Sentinel only has one Guide, and that was Blair," Jim replied, his voice raw.

"But there are Guides who aren't paired up," she pressed. "Find one. Continue what Blair started."

She stood up on her toes so she could reach to place a light kiss on his cheek.

"Take care of yourself."

It was then that Jim realized what she was doing. She was saying goodbye. He looked up towards the tree line that separated the cemetery from the main road, and saw Methos standing by his parked car. Jim nodded to him in acknowledgement, and Methos returned the gesture.

"Where will you go?" Jim asked, turning back to Phoenix.

"No clue," she replied with a soft smile. "In over five hundred years, I've only left the country once, and that was when I was a code talker for the military in World War II. I think it's high time I see some more of this world." She sighed, "I've been Phoenix Red Hawk for eleven years. It's time to give her a rest and become someone else for a while."

"Take care of yourself," he parroted her words, pulling her in for one last hug.

With one last smile, she turned and headed straight for Methos. The old Immortal wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to offer what comfort he could. After a minute, he asked if she was ready to leave. Both knew he was referring to more than just their physical location. Phoenix took a deep breath before replying.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready."

_Fin_


End file.
